


Oh, Baby

by sara_wolfe



Series: Winteriron Week [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 04:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19985830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_wolfe/pseuds/sara_wolfe
Summary: Bucky's got babies on the brain. Tony's not so sure.





	Oh, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> For Winteriron Week, day 4: Surprise Hugs / “I want a baby.” / Panic Attack/PTSD

Bucky snuck up behind his husband, wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist and nuzzling into the back of his neck. Tomy hummed softly, never taking his eyes off the frying pan he was tending, and he tangled his fingers with the hand Bucky had splayed across his stomach. 

“To what do I owe this unexpected affection?” he asked, teasingly.

Which was a fair question, since Bucky’s usual level of functionality in the morning consisted of a lot of blinking and the occasional grunt.

“I want a baby,” Bucky mumbled, pressing a sleepy kiss onto Tony’s neck.

The spatula scraping against the frying pan made a discordant shriek as Tony jerked his hand in shock. A distant ringing filled his ears as he stared down at the stove top. Spots of gray danced in his vision and he could feel a faint wave of nausea rise in his stomach.

“How about we start with pancakes and see how that goes?” he finally choked out.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, with breakfast a distant memory, Tony put the last of the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, wiped down the already-sparkling counter tops one last time, and then took a deep, shaky breath as he stared at his faint reflection in the window over the sink. His reflection didn’t have any more answers for him than it did five minutes ago, and five minutes before that. 

His ears had finally stopped ringing a couple minutes ago. The nausea was still there, very faintly. Tony took another small sip out of the glass of ginger ale he’d been nursing ever since he’d finished his hasty breakfast and escaped to the kitchen. 

Figuring that he’d stalled enough for one morning, Tony dropped his rag on the counter top and went to find Bucky. His husband was stretched out on the cough, idly flipping through the newspaper, although from the way his eyes kept flicking up to the door, he wasn’t actually taking in anything that he was looking at. The corners of his eyes were tense and his mouth was set in an unhappy line, and Tony felt sick at the thought that he’d been the one to put that expression on Bucky’s face. 

When Bucky saw him standing in the doorway, he offered up a weak smile that did nothing to make things better. If anything, Tony felt worse. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said, at the same time. 

They both stopped talking, and then Bucky stretched out a hand in a silent entreaty. After Tony joined him on the couch, Bucky tugged at his shoulder until he lay down with him, his head against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky carded his fingers gently though Tony’s hair and Tony sighed in contentment, losing himself in the soothing, repetitive touch. 

“I shouldn’t have sprung that on you like that,” Bucky finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room. “I know we’ve never talked about kids, but I also know what your childhood was like, and I know it’s a sensitive subject.”

“I’m not opposed to the idea of kids,” Tony told him. “But I am - I’m scared,” he admitted. “I’m scared of turning into Howard, of doing to my kid what he did to me.”

Bucky pressed a kiss to the top of his head, wrapping his arms more tightly around Tony. “I don’t know the future,” he said, “and I can’t promise you that you won’t turn into your father. But, I can’t promise I won’t turn into my parents either; you’ve met them, they’re certainly not candidates for Parents of the Year.”

“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?” Tony joked, weakly. 

“What I do know,” Bucky went on, undaunted, “is that you are one of the best people I know. You’re kind and loving, and I’ve seen you with other people’s kids, and I firmly believe that you would be an amazing father.”

Tony sighed, relaxing into Bucky’s embrace. “I’ll think about it,” he said, quietly. “I’m sorry I can’t promise you anything more than that-”

“You don’t ever have to be sorry,” Bucky told him. “If you decide you’re ready someday, then we will make fantastic parents. But I don’t want to pressure you into something like this. When we’re both ready to have kids, we’ll know.”

“What if we started small?” Tony suggested. 

“Like babysitting?” Bucky asked. 

“Like a puppy,” Tony told him. “We could be a foster home for a shelter dog, see how that goes.”

“That could work,” Bucky said, thoughtfully.

* * *

**_Six months later_ **

“What happened to only one foster puppy?” Bucky asked.

Tony looked completely unrepentant as he shifted his furry bundle in his arms. The gray and white puppy squirmed impatiently and licked his chin, paws waving in the air as it wiggled around. 

“And what do you call that?” Tony retorted, nodding at the leash in Bucky’s hand. 

“Petunia isn’t a puppy,” Bucky said, defensively. “She’s almost a year old, so she’s a teenager.”

“Well, I had to bring Boomer home,” Tony said. “He’s got a heart problem, and no one else wanted him.”

Bucky was the first one to crack a grin. “Maybe it’s a good thing we started with puppies, and not actual babies,” he joked, “because we’d probably have taken in half a dozen kids by now.”

“We have a lot of love to give,” Tony argued. When Petunia yipped, he laughed. “See, she agrees with me.”

“I think that’s her ‘I want a walk’ bark,” Bucky corrected him. “Huh, Petunia? Do you want to go for walkies?”

“Wow,” Tony said, dryly, “five minutes and you’re already wrapped around her paw. If we do ever have actual kids, I take it I’ll be in charge of timeouts?”

“Says the man who hasn’t put the puppy down since he came in the front door,” Bucky retorted. 

“Boomer has sensitive paws,” Tony protested, but he reluctantly set Boomer on the floor and twined the leash around his hand. “We’re both pushovers, okay? You happy?”

“With you?” Bucky asked. “Always.” Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to Tony’s in a brief kiss. “Come on, let’s take the kids for a walk.”

Twenty minutes later, Tony found himself standing alone holding both dogs’ leashes because Bucky was racing back down the sidewalk trying to chase the baseball hat that had been ripped off his head by a freak gust of wind. Tony fought back a laugh as he watched his husband sprint after his hat. 

“The only thing that would make this better,” he told the dogs, “would be if I had a free hand to film this with.”

The dogs didn’t react, choosing instead to stare determinedly down a nearby alleyway. Petunia, in particular, was restless as she strained against her leash. 

“What do you want?” Tony asked, taking a step toward her, and Petunia took advantage of the sudden slack in her leash to lunge toward the alley. “Okay, okay!” Tony said, afraid if he didn’t let Petunia check out the alley, she’d hurt herself. “Boomer, bud, guess we’re going this way.”

Petunia almost pulled him off his feet in her eagerness to get down the alley, and when they were halfway down, Boomer joined her, yanking at his leash and barking excitedly. Tony had no idea what was so exciting about a dumpster and some cardboard boxes littering the end of the alley, but he hoped they weren’t about to find a rat or something. 

Both dogs stopped pulling at their leashes as soon as they got near the boxes, and Petunia started whining anxiously, nosing one of the boxes over and over. It didn’t take a genius to see that she wanted whatever was inside.

“If a rabid raccoon jumps out and eats my face,” Tony muttered, crouching down next to the box, “Bucky’s never going to let me hear the end of it.”

Cautiously, he moved one of the box flaps to peer inside, and then he sucked in a sharp breath. Reaching into the box with shaking hands, he carefully lifted out the sleeping infant wrapped in a filthy blanket, cradling her instinctively against his chest. The baby opened her eyes as he moved her, staring up at him curiously. 

“Tony, what are you doing?” Bucky’s voice was shockingly loud even from the mouth of the alley, and Tony turned slowly around to face him as he came closer. Bucky looked from him to the baby and then back again, shock clear on his face. “Tony, what?”

“Remember how you said we’d know when we were ready to be parents?” Tony asked. “I think this might be a sign.”


End file.
